The Wicked Count
by ForevermoreNevermore
Summary: The bonds of brotherhood have seemed to withstood demons and shootings for the Eppes and Winchesters. Can their glue continue to hold if a new demon forces them into meeting on an occasion left to fate?
1. LIttle Girls and Dead Little Girls

_Yeah, I really thought it'd be cool if two uber hot guys (Sam and Charlie) met in the same show! This is MY twisted version of the crossover._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs. I do not own Supernatural._

19 Deaths

5 Counties

4 Brothers

2 Families

"You idiot!" Dean hissed none too kindly at his brother. Sam flinched and glared daggers at the can that had been almost too coincidentally in front of his foot. With a flourish of his hand and a flick of his curly, brown hair, Sam had his gun in his hand, looking almost casual.

"Look, if he was here, he would have heard that cat you stepped on a couple of hallways back," the younger Winchester retorted quietly. Dean rolled his eyes and motioned for his brother to follow him. The 'him', in case you were wondering, just so happened to be a shapeshifting demon. Or, 'glorified little girls with make-up' as Dean so fondly called them, realizing that it had turned into some cute little devil-girl. The had been trailing it for the past three days, investigating every missing dog and almost throttling someone's little old granny to death. They had finally followed it here, certain that the pig-tailed little demon was actually the one they were looking for.

"I'd just like to rip those little pigtails right out of it's artificially blonde little head…" Dean muttered, turning a corner. Sam cocked an eyebrow and (hesitantly) followed his sadistic brother. As soon as he turned the corner, however, he ran into Dean's brown leather jacket.

"What's…?" he began, only to be silenced by Dean's raised hand.

"Muffin tops and spider drops, your soul belongs to me, drop it now or pay a fee, and I'll set your cadaver free!" a small voice giggled in front of Dean. Sam felt his stomach do a flip.

"At least it's good a poetry…"

"Yeah, a regular Mother Goose Grimm," Dean grunted, fiddling with his gun before stepping into the dim light of the room. Sam followed, taking as much of the room in in a single glance. The moonlight slanted in, though by the time it made it's way through the tall skyscrapers outside, it only managed to be a little strip of silver on the cement floors. Every couple of seconds, a small girl with pigtails would skip past, the strip of silver painting her face pale. She seemed to be hopping around something, but all that could be seen in the light looked like a leg. _I'm pretty sure that the lack of light is a blessing_, Sam thought, his jaw locking.

"You two are as dead-set as hound dogs!" It was suddenly apparent that the small clack of shoes had stopped and the room was eerily quiet. Sam felt his older brother jump and made sure he had his gun in his hand before following suit. The little girl put her hands on her hips and stared at the two of them, her eyes black abysses.

"Mommy says we shouldn't play with guns," she chided, shaking her finger at the two.

"Momma said a lot of stuff, like, clean your room, don't pick your nose, check for that demon under your bed…" Dean retorted. Far off sirens seemed to be laughing at them, causing the hairs to prick-up on the back of Sam's neck.

"I don't like you!" the demon stomped her petite foot on the ground and stuck out her bottom lip.

"Well, I don't like you. In fact, I don't like your whole race!" Dean whined right back. Sam couldn't help but turn his head as the sirens seem to increase.

"Yeah, but I did something about my hatred," it giggled. At that, Dean cocked one of his eyebrows and lowered his gun, but only slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Uh, Dean…" Sam whispered, sidling closer to the exit.

"What?"

"I think it has something to do with those sirens…" they got even louder in response.

"What did you do?" The little demon giggled and continued to skip around, singing something about bleeding hearts and decapitated parts. The brothers watched her with growing aggravation.

"Would you shut up?" Sam finally snapped, having his own little temper tantrum. The little girl snarled at him.

"Fine!" the sirens continued to get closer and closer. The little girl began to laugh hysterically, her face distorted in her sick ecstasy. The brothers watched her for a few moments, but then began to get fed up with it.

"Would you shut up?" Sam shouted, shooting the little demon in-between the eyes. Over dramatically, like a Shakespeare soliloquy, the demon fell backwards onto the ground, her pigtails slowly falling beside her head. For several moments the brothers simply watched her and waited for her to pop up again, pointy teeth bared, but she never did.

"Oh, come on, you're not dead!" Dean sighed, regret apparent in his voice. Sure, he wished it were this easy. Psychotically, the body on the ground shook with laughter.

"You're right, I'm not, but I sure look it!"

"Sure, anyone would look dead with a bullet in-between their eyes," Sam shrugged irritably. Another round of laughter followed, only to be drowned out by the ever-nearing sirens.

"I'm a good actor, yes?"

"Yes, so what's your point?" Dean was growing inpatient building up her self-esteem.

"The cops can't tell the difference between an acting demon and a dead girl…" it was suddenly apparent that the sirens filled the air with their cries, also that they were not moving away.

"Why you little- you called the cops?" Dean shouted, already backing up towards the exit. Through a window, the two brothers saw trucks pulling up. They weren't only cop cars, but others as well. Men in bulletproof jackets poured out of the cars and swarmed towards the building, guns pulled and eyes steely.

"C'mon Dean, we can't stand around!" Sam hissed, quickly backing towards the door.

"Yeah, but if we're going to be framed for murder, I want to actually kill something!" Dean shouted, glaring down at the little blonde demon. She merely smiled up at him, then regained that dead look.

"Put your hands up!" A man bellowed. Dean, already realized he had been caught over the body, turned to his brother.

"Run Sam!" he hissed. The younger Winchester hesitated for a moment.

"But-"

"RUN!" When Sam didn't run, Dean raised a fist threateningly to him. "RUN!"

"I can't leave you with the cops!"

"What are they gonna' pin me for, killing a demon?" Said cops were running closer and closer, so Sam followed his brother's advice and turned-tail and ran.

"One's running!" Dean heard one of the people shout. He cursed and turned to run. "Put your hands up!" They shouted again. The hunter sighed and lazily raised his arms into the air. Almost immediately, he was tackled by the men and shoved to the ground. Over the grunts, he could have sworn he heard a sigh of relief.

"Hey, go tell Charlie I said good job, we caught him."


	2. Brother, Oh My Brother

_Sorry it's taken so long. I've been uber-uber busy. I hope you like it!_

_Disclaimer:I do not own Supernatural or Numb3rs.  
_

_This isn't right,_ Charlie Epps thought, drumming his fingers on the leather of the truck's armrest. He had done the equation, told Don, found the murderers, but still.

"It should be a group of people, not just one or two," he stared out the window at the scene happening before him. His brother was wrestling with a man who looked somewhat like a biker. He put up a fight, but Don kept on him. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, a figure walked towards the car. Charlie turned to look at him. He had curly brown hair and a leather jacket. With a somewhat worried look on his face, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked in front of the car, never taking his eyes off of the scene. Charlie felt a strange urge to talk to him. _At this point, I'd talk to a horse._

The mathematician put his hand on the handle and pushed down on it just as the man stopped and looked behind him. Then, in a flurry of event unknown to probably anyone but divine intervention, Charlie opened the door just as the man turned around to run. Metal met man and the latter ended up on the ground.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry!" Charlie jumped out of the car and slammed the door closed to reveal the man on the ground with his hand on his nose and a cursing problem.

"What'd you do that for?" he managed to ask; though it came out nasally because of the obstruction caused by his hand. Charlie put a hand down and the stranger grabbed it, hauling himself up and almost causing the mathematician to lose his balance. _He's heavier than he looks._

"I'm so sorry, I just opened the door… and you turned the corner… and well," Charlie gestured at his nose. "The rest is history as they say."

"And I'm still feeling it," the stranger muttered, rubbing at the blood, not caring it got on his… already… bloodstained jacket.

Charlie swallowed, wondering if he should say something… or feel stupid for not realizing that a man at a crime scene shouldn't really be trusted. "I-" and his phone rang. "Excuse me!"

Charlie turned around and pulled the phone out of the car. "Hey Don."

"_We got him! All thanks to you!_" Don's voice was tired, and the phone crackled as he breathed in and out.

"Uh-huh… look, I don't think-"

"_Stop being paranoid, Chuck!_" Charlie bristled. "_We got him, he's not going away… the body may be missing and there may be a missing person, but you should SEE this guy! He cusses like sailor,_" as he paused, random swear words could be heard over the phone. Charlie turned to see the man standing beside him looking around.

"You're no Saint…" Charlie muttered, then got back on the topic. "Did you say someone was missing?"

"_Yeah, there was another man there when we showed up, but he ran. We think he took the body with him. The only clue we have to who he was, was that the man we caught was yelling at him, calling him Sam."_

"Huh," the younger Epps tried to act interested but couldn't hide his growing unease.

"_Yeah, well, I better go. We're heading back to question him. Talk to you later, bye."_ The phone hung up before Charlie could comment. He placed his phone in the car and turned to meet his new 'friend'.

"Hi," he offered a hand, "I'm Charlie." The man looked at the hand before offering taking it and shaking it.

"I'm Sam," Charlie froze, but only for a second. Sam must've noticed his hesitation, for he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, brown wallet-looking piece of leather. "I'm with the FBI, as is my brother, Dean. He should be conversing with out friends over there." He jerked his hair in the direction of the blinking lights. Charlie's shoulders relaxed and he grinned, shaking his head to get his curls out of his face.

"Oh. So that's your brother? Sounds like an… interesting person…" Charlie said remembering the phone 'conversation'. Sam rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"He is… trust me… he is," Charlie couldn't help but laugh.

"Brothers… they can't help but be interesting…"

"Got one too?"

"Yeah, older," Charlie paused to see Sam grin. "He's over there too."

"Yeah, older brothers can be slightly… annoying."

"Only slightly?" they laughed, though Sam's was rusty as though it hadn't been used much. Charlie grinned and met his new friend's glance. It was nice that they had hit it off so fast, seeing as their brother's probably wouldn't take too kindly to each other.

* * *

"I said LET ME GO! I'll show you my badge, just loosen up a tad, you stuck up-"

"Badge, huh? Where is it?" Don looked at Colby, who shook his head, hiding a grin.

"It's in my jacket! You get it then, if you're so high and mighty," the murderer sniffed. Don reached into his jacket and felt around until he felt a thin, leather rectangle. He retrieved it and snapped it open to reveal a badge, naming the 'ex-murderer' Dean Winchester. Don felt his mirth stop in his throat and almost choked on his dignity.

"Oh…"

"Yeah! Now get these frikkin' cuffs off before I shove them where the sun don't shine!" Don pulled out the keys and took off the handcuffs. David came over and peeked over at the badge. He looked at Don behind Dean's back and mouthed one word 'oops'.

"Yeah. And my brother better be okay," Dean said, cocky to the core. Don stared down at the brunette biker-looking FBI agent, while feeling his mirth rise again, _another younger brother? Great… we'll be swarming with them soon enough._

"Hey! Earth to goody boy!" Don looked at Dean, who was giving him a cocked-eyebrow expression. "How about some food, got plenty to tell you 'bout the murder." Don looked at the brazen FBI agent and sighed, signaling his team over.

* * *

Sam's phone rang, drawing them out of their conversation about food. "Hey Dean." Charlie sighed, realizing that this young man's brother was free, and his brother would probably get chewed out like bad jerky. "Yeah, sounds great. Listen…" he paused. "Charlie's his name? Well, tell him that we'll both be there." Charlie cocked his head rather childishly as he heard his name being called.

"What was that about?" Sam sighed to put his phone back into his pocket.

"Your brother and mine have met," he laughed and raised an eyebrow. "It resulted in dinner. You think you could give me a lift? Don't really know where anything is yet." Charlie swallowed the information, smiling ruefully before nodding.

"Sure, where are we eating?"

Sam laughed at some hidden joke, "a diner, Ruth's Diner, I think he said." Charlie raised his eyebrows and jumped into his car.

"Wow, Don must really not like your brother."

_There you have it! Demon's couldn't kill Dean, but maybe Salmonella can!_


	3. Racoons and Really Big Rats

_So so so sorry for the late update! I don't know why it took me so long, it's been sitting on my computer just collecting dust! I hope you like it, and I know it was an exceptionally long wait, but I hope this is good enough to make up for it marginally! :D Thank you everyone for your reviews and favorites and everything._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do not own Numb3rs. They both belong to their respective creators.

* * *

  
_

The grease from the hash browns was enough to fry a bag of fries, though Sam certainly wasn't complaining. It wasn't everyday that he got to eat on someone else's dime. He stuck a fork in and tentatively took a bite. He glanced over and saw Dean pigging down his eggs and Charlie grinning good-natured. His brother, on the other hand, wasn't. He was glaring daggers at his brother, almost like one would stare at a wet, mangy dog.

The younger Winchester bristled at the older man, but he took no heed. They'd actually taken the time to figure out how the ages went, from oldest to youngest; Dean and Don were the same, in fact still arguing who was older. Sam was next and Charlie was the youngest. For some unknown reason, Sam already felt endeared to the young genius.

"So, uh, Sam," he stopped poking at his grease cakes and to acknowledge Don. "You seem awfully young to be in the FBI."

"That's kind of hypocritical," Dean snorted.

"I believe in lifelong jobs," Sam interjected with a chuckle. "Start early, end old." Don nodded slightly before glancing down at his mug of coffee.

Dean cleared his throat and took a chug of his coffee before speaking, "So Charlie, you seem a little young to be an Einstein. What happened there?" Charlie blushed and stared self consciously at the water spotted napkin holder on their table.

"I went through school at an accelerated rate, and so,"

He was interrupted as Don slung his arm over his shoulder, "Old Chuck here's our family genius." He said with a chuckle and a proud grin.

"I told you not to call me that!" Charlie snapped, shrugging off the arm. Don held his hands up in a peace greeting.

"Allright! Allright!"

"Wow… family genius… bet school was… great…" It was obvious that as soon as Dean had started his thought, he actually had finished thinking it through and was regretting it. Charlie blushed and plucked at a piece of Texas Toast on his plate.

"Yeah, well, I survived it and I'm not the strongest guy in the world."

The cool way that he said the obvious cover up impressed the two perpetual liars. Almost anyone going through school ahead of anyone else would have a hard time.

"So, Mick Jagger, how's life in the biz?" Dean asked, taking a hulking forkful of his eggs and practically inhaling them.

Don gave a small snort before Charlie answered. "Well, I'm not technically in the biz," he said the word like a grandparent saying a cool new word in front of their friends. "I'm a consultant. They come to me when the case takes a mathematical turn."

"So," Sam piped in, a small, chastising smirk crossing his face as he tossed Dean a sideways glance, "You do what your older brother can't?"

Don and Charlie seemed to think for a moment, before Don's face pulled an acknowledging 'here we go again' look and Charlie's lit up with amusement and pride. "Yeah." Charlie elbowed his brother slightly. "That's exactly what I do."

"Great, now you've gone and given him a big head," Don rolled his eyes, yet his sarcasm held good humor.

"Not nearly as big as yours though," Charlie joked, turning his head to hide a smirk as Don turned to give him a glare that held not an ounce of true malice.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNS

"They remind us of us," Sam mused, his hands folded behind his head as he lay on the motel bed, a bed that was very much like 100s of others dotting the country, save the unusual green paisley bedspread on this one. Dean grunted. Sam waited a moment before turning his head slightly to peer at the side of Dean's head. "Don't you agree?"

"Not really. That one guy, Don, he's a jerk." He paused for a moment. "Charlie's okay. A little too smart, though, probably shouldn't hang out with him too much."

"I don't think he would suspect us of anything. He's too… innocent." Dean paused for a moment, then turned his head and chanced placing the side of his face against the beige pillowcase that probably used to be white.

"He's got an IQ that's higher than you when you nearly lost an arm and had those painkillers that could knock out a horse." Sam winced at the memory.

"You've got a point."

"Of course I've got a point. I'm the older brother."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

"Was it just me, or was there something weird about those two?" It was a rare quiet moment in the house when Charlie asked the question. Don rested his beer on his knee and raised an eyebrow at his younger brother.

"Not weird, but kind of like déjà vu," Was Don's response. Charlie waited a moment and Don added something after taking a drink. "They were a lot like us, Chuck."

"They were, weren't they?" The mathematician said after a quietly muttered "that was the third time today". There was a soft knocking on the door that took the two out of their conversation.

Charlie rose from the couch to answer it, but Don stopped him with a hand. "It's one in the morning, who would come calling at this time?" He froze while his older brother stood and shoved his beer in his hands. "I'll get it."

Charlie frowned, it seemed his brother was always jumpy when they were in the middle of a case. _He's going to have a nervous breakdown one of these days… I just know it. _ Don slid through the house like a shadow before coming to the door. After peeking through the small glass in the window, he unlocked and opened the door. Cold air whooshed in and soon the door closed, the locks snapping into place at Don's discretion. Footsteps echoed in an empty hallway for a moment before Don reappeared, examining a small package and turning it over in his hands.

There was nothing special about it, Charlie noticed. It was just a plain, cardboard box that had been wrapped with a crimson piece of string. Once lengthwise, then again around the width, the two edges conjoining in the middle to form a bow much like that on a Christmas present bought at the mall.

"Who's it for?" It seemed a silly question, and Charlie wanted to hit himself as soon as he answered it. But the response was not expected.

"Me…" Don's answer was muted as his mind was away, deep in thought.

"But you don't live here," Charlie pointed out stupidly, Don shooting him a glance. "So someone's watching us, close enough to know you're here… right now…"

"I didn't see anyone drive away or running off," At his last two words, bounding footsteps echoed across the roof, streaking towards the backyard. Charlie jumped, his heartbeat accelerating, but Don moved quickly, running to the back door and slamming it open just in time to see a raccoon jump off of the roof and scamper comically across the backyard. As it neared the fence, it paused and turned to look at it, it's nose pointing out from behind the bulk of gray fur called its torso. It's tail whipped through the air and it hopped up and over the fence with a tittering cry.

"What was it?" Charlie cried from the couch.

"A raccoon." Charlie gave a coughing laugh, before trailing off in a relieved sigh. "Well why don't you see what it is?"

Don was silent for a moment, and he sat on the couch and retrieved his beer from Charlie, taking a drink before fetching the box from the place it landed when he threw it, the small table. Without a word he untied the bow by tugging on one of the twisting ribbons. The ribbon fell apart and Don brushed it away. He removed the lid with a small tug and his face dropped at the sight within.

"What is it?" Charlie asked, bending close enough to see what was in the box. His face twisted in confusion at the sight. "What _is_ it?" he repeated.

"It's that little girl's from the scene today." Don moaned his finger and thumb massaging gently on the bridge of his nose. Indeed, it was the same curling blonde hair that had been on the body glimpsed at the crime scene today. It was completed by the same crimson ribbon that was on the outside of the box, wrapped around where the hair had been sheared. It sat gently on a bed of royal blue tissue paper. "Probably sent by the guy who took the body." Charlie inhaled sharply and sat back on his side of the bed.

"Should we call everyone?" Charlie asked, unsure.

"It'd be too late to catch anyone," Don muttered, placing the box gently on the table and downing the rest of the beer. It was obvious this case was driving him up the wall. "I'll tell them tomorrow."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

The dull sun glowed through the clouds, the small circle easily visible and just as easy to stare at for hours, or until the thin veil of clouds migrated. Sam always took pleasure staring at the star in this state, but today he didn't have the time. The Winchester's walked up to the building, the building known to be where the FBI worked. This was a plan Sam had been full against, yet Dean shot down every argument by saying that if they wanted the real FBI's to think that the two of them were agents, they had to act like they belonged there. Sam, though he now agreed out loud, inwardly shouted that this was like running from one lion into a den of them… with a steak on your head… bleeding out every pore in your body.

They marched through the doors. Showing their badges to the guards and asking what level Don Eppes worked on. They followed the directions and rode the elevator up to the right floor, allowing the ding to ring their arrival before stepping off. It seemed… empty… for a hard-working FBI office.

"Where is everyone?" Sure there were people here and there, but none of them looked like they faced any danger worse than a papercut. Soon, they both saw a gathering of people through the glass walls, and Don stood at the head while Charlie wrote on a chalkboard.

The two brothers strutted towards the glass office. Just as they were reaching the door, Charlie whipped around, his curls bouncing and his eyes wider and brighter than the two had seen them yesterday. His mouth moved fast and his hands pointed and jerked, as if painting a picture in the sky. An equation lined itself up on the green chalkboard, then whipped away as he flipped it over to reveal more numbers and another equation on the other side. Dean and Sam exchanged impressed looks and mutually decided to wait silently outside.

But then again, there's not much use waiting outside a glass door.

Charlie finished with a flourish, writing a 16 on the board and then finally glancing in the Winchester's direction. He blinked his large, brown, doe-like eyes, then offered them a bright smile. Don turned, offering them a nod in recognition. The others in the room turned and stared at the two, vagabond-looking visitors.

"Howdy," Dean said with his smirkish smile as he poked his head through the door.

"Hey," Charlie greeted, waving a hand that still held a dwindled piece of chalk.

"Hey Donny," Dean said, giving the elder Eppes brothers a smirk. Sam entered behind him, silently wishing that his brother wouldn't get them thrown out.

"Hi," Don greeted his voice lackluster.

"I've got something for you," Dean said, his voice cocky and happy despite the cold tension radiating from Don. Withdrawing his hand from a leather pocket, he threw a small brown box on the glass table, a red ribbon crinkled on top of it. It clattered over some papers and stopped near Don.

"Someone knocked on our door at like, one in the morning, and when we opened it, that was sitting on the floor." Sam explained as Don propped off the lid to reveal a blonde pigtail, wrapped in a red ribbon. Don gave a small grunt and pointed to an identical brown box.

"We got one last night, at one." Charlie explained as the two brothers stared at the box. "Were there any raccoons at your place?" he asked with a laugh.

"There are raccoons in California?" Dean asked, his face confused.

"Oh yeah, one even ran over our roof last night." Dean and Sam exchanged raised eyebrows.

"No… there were no raccoons scurrying down our motel's hallway." Dean started. "But there was a rat as big as your head."

"And you're still going to stay there?" One asked. That one appeared to have more muscles than brains, a ashy blond short haircut, and a disbelieving smile on his face.

"Yes," Dean said, "weeeee don't have money pouring out of our butts." This seemed to put a stick in his wheel.

"Well, we should probably get going," Sam said, a forced smile on his face as he tried to ease the easily tangible feeling in the air. Charlie offered the same kind of smile.

"Well, see you around then."

"Bye Kid Genius," Dean smirked, giving a one armed wave in the means of good-byes and then exiting. Just as the door was closing behind Sam, he heard the one who had spoke up earlier, speak up once again, 'You sure have a strange taste in friends, Charlie.'

The two brothers walked silently through the office, staying quiet on the elevator ride and as they exited. Finally, Dean spoke up as they were sitting in the car.

"So, looks like our little girl is putting herself out there." He grunted, fiddling with the air conditioner.

"So she obviously enjoys taunting us, but why them?" Sam asked, and the two brothers fell into thought, still thinking as the engine purred to life and they drove away.

"They obviously don't know anything about what's really going on…" Dean started. "The only thing I see that we have in common is that we're brothers."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNS

It was about half an hour after the Winchester's visit when she arrived. She paraded into the office like she belonged there, a picture clutched in her hand. Tears spilled over her bloodshot green eyes. With a stomp, she marched right up to Don imperiously… her head bobbing at his thigh.

"Where's my sister?" She cried, shoving her hand straight up, yet the crumpled picture still only came to Don's chest. Though compassionate and willing to help any little girl, his jaw dropped and he gave a small stutter.

"H-how'd you get in here?" he asked, thoroughly ignoring her question.

"Where's my little sister?" she cried again, waving the paper around in a manner which would've raised a breeze if it had been anywhere near his face. Finally, Don grasped the picture.

"What's her name?" he asked as the picture came free from her hand. It revealed a small girl with curling blonde pigtails, very similar to the ones gift-wrapped in cardboard boxes.

"Her name's Silvia Woodson," she sniffed. Don felt a pang hit his heart as he recalled the body, spread on the ground.

"What's your name?" he asked softly, bending down a bit so that he could look her in the eyes.

"Have you seen her? Any of her?" she asked quietly. "I really miss her."

"I understand, but is your moth-" he trailed off as a murmur of 'did she say any of her?' passed through the office. He turned to look at David, who shrugged. "Can I speak with your moth-" once again he trailed off as he turned back around, but there was no little girl. He glanced around, not even hearing the elevator ding. "Where'd she go?"

"I have no clue," Charlie answered, coming up beside him with the same confused expression that was sure to be etched on Don's. He glanced around the office, yet everyone had the same exact look of confusion on they're faces.

"So… we all turned around at the same time and no one saw where she went?" Don asked, his face incredulous, but all he got were nods of agreement. Followed shortly by a chorus-like, domino line of screeching and slaps of folders. It ran around the office until Charlie snapped his head towards the direction of the nearest desk and slammed his coffee cup down. Coffee splashed towards the outer rim of the mug before rushing towards the center and sending brown drops flying.

"It got away," he said quietly, picking up his coffee mug and sheepishly taking a drink.

"What got away?"

"A cockroach…"

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_Welp... there it is. In all it's... glory (if you care to call it that ^^) I hope you enjoyed it!_


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